


Little Moments

by Skaurple



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Character Study, Childhood, Death, Family, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Jumping Timeline, One Shot, Original Character(s), Prejudice, Racism, Religion, Self-Doubt, Sign Language, Slice of Life, Tags will update as chapters go up, tags will also be stated in beginning of chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skaurple/pseuds/Skaurple
Summary: A little moment can have a big impact on someones life...A series of oneshots dedicated to the little moments that have led the people of the Special Victims Unit into the individuals they are now.





	1. June 12, 1988

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the deleted scene, “Believing is Hard Work”.
> 
> Sonny has a hard time believing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Humor, Religion, Family, Childhood

**Sonny Carisi**

Despite Sonny's numerous visits to church, the overwhelming silence always managed to crawl under his skin. Church was meant to be a tranquil, comforting place-- a second home, some may say. But Sonny couldn't help but tense up, hearing the mumbled prayers of the elderly echoing throughout the high-ceiling structure and the dim lighting, accompanied with the ominous look of the beaming sun spilling through the stained glass.

It was tough and admittedly, took some time to maintain a calm demeanour, as opposed to his usual fidgety nature, through the Sunday mass. Even with his limited knowledge towards the scriptures and the whole sitting and standing choreography, he still managed to appear respectful. But now, with the new development of his father dragging him to confessionals every Tuesday, Sonny would yet again, face every child's worst nightmare; boredom.

Confessionals were intimidating the first few weeks. He had a lot to get off his chest, like the time he purposely stuck gum in Teresa's hair, and when he taught Bella how to cuss. But as weeks passed by, his wrong doings were limiting and he had less and less to confess, which meant he had less and less reason to visit. Still, his father was left unconvinced and insisted they continue their weekly habits. Sonny reluctantly went along.

"Sonny, would you stop playin' with that thing? It's rude." Sonny winced at Teresa's harsh whisper. He thought taking a seat at the opposite end of the empty pew would send a message that he was avoiding her.

Keeping his eyes on the rubik's cube he had been fiddling with, he spat back,

" _You're_ rude."

"Wow, real clever, Sonny." She rolled her eyes. "C'mon, seriously. Hand it over."

He gave a blank stare over to Teresa and saw her hand extend towards him. He thought of slapping it away but her expression was an intimidating one. With a deep sigh, the younger sibling pursed his lips before giving into her demand. If having Teresa as his oldest sibling had taught him anything, it's to do what she says unless he wanted to dig his own grave. But, seeing as she began playing with the cube herself, Sonny couldn't help but scold her for it.

"Hey, that's not fair!" His attempt of keeping his voice down was a failure. "Why do you get to play with it and not me, huh?!"

"'Cause I'm the eldest and I can do whatever I want." Was her lame excuse.

Sonny scrunched his nose and gave a lengthy stare at the other, silently debating whether or not to attack. Although tempting, seeing as a giant crucifixion was practically staring down at them, Sonny simply slid down his seat and folded his arms.

"Havin' you as a sister is pretty much a sin. Can I confess to that?" He mumbled to himself.

"Heard that." She deadpanned. "I'm tellin' pa when he comes back."

"He's probably confessin' 'bout his mistake of not puttin' you up for adoption." Was a response Sonny had in mind, but kept to himself for obvious reasons.

When their father returned, Sonny awaited for Teresa to tattletale but to his relief, she simply smiled at their father and made her way to confessionals. Their father slid beside Sonny and ruffled his curly, brown hair before using the kneeler in front of them. It was a pattern Sonny had seen repeated, yet he still continued to watch him curiously as he prayed. When Sonny asked why he did it, his father responded, saying God was listening. God hears him when he prays for a healthy family, a bright future, and peace around the world.

But it hadn't made sense to Sonny. Bella caught a cold just yesterday. A month ago they attended his grandmothers funeral, and just before they left for church the news reported a horrifying cruise incident resulting in 9 killed and 60 wounded. If God really was listening, why were all these terrible things happening? Why was the negative constantly overshadowing the positive?

Sonny was removed from his daze when Teresa returned, telling him it was his turn. He huffed up a breath and made his way to the cabinets.

A hint of lumber hit Sonnys nose as he entered the confined space. He took a seat on the wooden chair provided, and closed the door leaving him in the dim cabinet.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." He began in a low tone. "My last confession was a week ago."

He went on with his usual queued up list; how he should respect his sisters more, how he should be studying rather than playing with his toy cars, and how he should be listening in class more often. Sonny paused from speaking to think of more things to confess to, but a question hovered in the back of his head.

Was God even listening?

The young boy glanced over to the latticed opening between his space and Father Richie. Unlike how he appeared during mass, Father Richie was without movement, completely expressionless as he stared down his lap. He looked as bored as Sonny felt.

Was anyone listening?

Sonny thought for a moment before looking away. If no one heard him, what was the point? "I uh, I also stole a box of crayons from the store the other day."

He instantly felt heat crawl up his neck with the fabricated sin. Never did Sonny imagine he would ever even think to lie to a priest, yet there he was, awaiting for Father Richies reaction. Sonnys nails dug into the wooden stool as he took another quick glance over to the priest, who's eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.

"Did you return it?" Father Richie asked.

"Huh? Oh, uh-- Yeah, I did." His eyes shifted left to right.

Father Richie didn't say anything else off script, and went on with the assigning the penance. It was three more Hail Mary's than what he usually requested and just like that, Sonny was forgiven for something he hadn't done.

Sonny wasn't sure how to feel. Perhaps guilty for lying to an adult, but at the same, he was intrigued by the subtle eyebrow quirk he managed to get out of the stone faced priest. It at least made things a bit more interesting for both parties, Sonny thought.

 

The following week, Sonny found himself in the same position as he was last Tuesday; in a too quiet and too dark box with even less to confess about. Within a week, he found himself listening to his teachers more, gave at least an hour dedicated to homework, and only back talked his sisters five times, as opposed to the usual fifty. Perhaps making up confessions wasn't such a terrible idea, just to fill the silent void. So, he did. Then he did it again the next week. Then the next. And then the next. And he followed this new pattern for a whole month.

The once small lies began to heighten with each visit.

"I stole a few bucks from my ma's wallet."

"I borrowed Teresas bicycle and rode it into a pond."

And his personal favourite;

"I got in a fist fight with my classmate, Daniel and gave him a black eye."'

Everything went without consequences and Sonny found himself actually looking forward to Tuesdays just to see how much of a reaction he could get out of Father Richie. It was different each time. A slight twitch of his lip, or his eyebrow moving the tiniest inches upward. Though subtle, It was more entertaining than his usual dead stare, that was until the fourth week.

On the fourth week of his little experiment, Sonny finished his confessionals, barely keeping himself together from the worst lie he has told yet. He had also possibly gotten the best reaction he has ever seen from Father Richie. His statue-like expression faded as his eyes widened and his head whipped towards the younger boy in utter shock. It was clear he tried to remain professional but the genuine concern and horror written on his face was strongly evident. But still, all Sonny had to do was 10 more Hail Mary's than the last time.

He made his way to the pew of where his sister and dad were sitting and he used the kneeler to pray, or at least pretend to. It was then, Father Richie appeared beside his dad and took him further away from him and Teresa, to converse. The two would look back at the children from time to time with intense looks and Sonny felt in necessary to begin panicking.

Sonny sat back on the pew and grabbed his Rubik's cube from his sweater pocket. He began twisting it to distract himself from his father who made his way back to the children.

"Teresa," Their father spoke sternly.

Teresa looked over to their father curiously, while Sonny kept his head down, unprepared for what was about to happen.

"C'mere." He nodded his head towards Father Richie, who stood a few feet away.

Teresa squinted her eyes in confusion, but nonetheless, obeyed his demand and followed her father. Sonny hesitantly glanced over, seeing the three formed in a circle, and soon Teresa appeared visibly shocked. Then she became red in the face with anger.

"Sonny said what?!" Once again, Sonny winced at Teresa's voice. "No, no, no I absolutely did NOT do that! He's a liar!"

All three glared at him with disapproving looks, resulting in him sliding down his seat in complete embarrassment. Turns out, telling Father Richie a false story about how Teresa tried to drive Sonny and herself to Disney World, but ended up causing a traffic jam was a bit too complex for anyone to believe. And perhaps it was a dead giveaway when Father Richie noticed Sonny's confessions only getting worse as time went by.

After he was yelled at by both Teresa's and his father, Sonny was forced to confess all the false confessions he had made to Father Richie, and also give a formal apology to both him and God for manipulating them. Again, he was forgiven after doing the lengthiest pension he has ever been given, and was also grounded for a whole month.

On the pews again, Sonny chose to distance himself from where his father sat. But, that did not stop his father from scooting his way closer to him. Sonny let out a deep sigh as his posture faltered.

"You understand what you did was wrong, right?" His father asked.

"No, not really." Sonny answered honestly, but was barely audible.

"You lied, Sonny. Worst of all, you lied to God."

"But-- but if He doesn't even have time to save the poor and sick people 'round the world, He probably doesn't have time to listen to me!" Sonny paused before continuing in a softer tone. "I just-- I dunno. I don't really understand God. If he's so good, why does the world get hurt so much?"

Silence was introduced, and the faint sound of mumbled prayers could be heard again. Sonny felt he had said something wrong again, but to his relief, his father spoke up.

"God is complex, y'know? Like a Rubik's cube." He glanced down at the cube that he had taken away from Sonny, and began fiddling with it. "It can be confusin', frustratin', and it takes a lot of twists and turns to figure out. But the more time you spend with it, the better your understandin' and soon enough, things will begin to fall into place."

Sonny eyes widened seeing as the white side of the cube was completed. Then the red.

His father continued, "I know it's hard to believe-- and trust me, believing is hard work, but God has a path for everybody. It may not be the easiest, Lord knows it hasn't been for me, but trust and believe in Him and there will be happiness."

He held the cube in front of Sonny, revealing a perfectly completed cube. He grabbed it hesitantly and began inspected the six solid colours. He hadn't seen it like that since he first unwrapped it out of its package.

Sonny thought about what his dad had said as the family walked back home. He still wasn't quite sure how his father managed to remain loyal to God, a person or enigma who he has never physically met. He was able to trust in someone with so much faith and love to do good in this seemingly dark world. And to make believeing look so effortless almost seemed like a super power. Yet, they both have the same dilemma,

Believing is hard work.


	2. May 20, 2004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda visits her childhood home and finds out not much has changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Family, childhood, humor

**Amanda Rollins**

Amanda noticed the new layer of maroon paint caked onto the door she stood in front of. It was a refreshing look, Amanda admitted, but the rusty door knob that had to be turned in a very specific manner was evident, along with the chipped wood near the foot of the door. It was a miracle someone was willing to buy the home even with it's endless flaws.

Taking a deep breath, Amanda crouched down to pile of mail that hadn't been touched for God knows how long. It consisted mostly of subscriptions to trashy magazines, mainly featuring Tyra Banks. Some things never change, Amanda thought to herself.

Holding the pile against her chest, she knocked on the door with her free hand. Her grip tighten once it opened, and she was greeted by her mother who wore a smitten smile. She appeared elegant as always, despite the dust and dirt that covered her casual wear and the sweat dripping down her forehead.

"Look who decided to finally show  
up!" She placed a hand on her hip. "I was beginning to think you were lying about coming back home, like those other hundred times."

Amanda held herself from rolling her eyes at the too familiar passive-aggressive tone her mother used.

"Good to see you too, ma."

"Oh, darlin', you know I'm just teasing you!" She spread her arms and stepped closer to Amanda. "Come here, we missed you."

Amanda's eyes softened and she wrapped her arms around her mother.

"Missed you too, mama." She let out another sigh. "Did y'all start packin' without me?"

Her mother chuckled before letting go of her daughter. "More like I started packing," Amanda raised an eyebrow at her and her mother simply shrugged. "Kim's been cooped up in her room, sleeping."

Amanda glanced down to her watch, seeing it was nearly 1:00PM.  
Truly, some things never changed.

 

The familiar scent of cinnamon hit Amanda's nose as she entered her old home. The tiles near the entrance still creaked, and the crack in the wall that Kim's kindergarten graduation photo tried to cover still remained. Despite Amanda's familiarity, the place felt smaller than she remembered. She hadn't visited home since she graduated college two years ago.

Amanda received news from her mother over the phone a few weeks back, who (in the following order,) told her they needed help to pack, and that they were downgrading to an apartment. Amanda couldn't quite object to the idea, seeing as she herself moved out, but still she couldn't help but feel saddened. It felt as if a piece of her was fading away.

"Help me over here, will you, Amanda?"

Amanda removed her focus from the crack on the wall and onto her mother, who was packing picture frames in the living room. Amanda walked towards her, stood by her side and did as she was told.

Quite honestly, Amanda couldn't remember when most of photos were taken. But, she giggled when spotting the image of herself when she was 4. Her mother looked over her shoulder and saw she was holding an image of Amanda playing in a kiddie pool in the front yard. The two shared the memory of the days where it was too hot to even go to out. So instead, the family stayed in the living room with the fans blasting in each and every direction. The orange popsicle stain that Kim spilled from all those years ago still remained on the couch. Though laughable now, it was absolutely terrifying when Kim blamed Amanda, and Amanda ended up being screamed at.

Their laughs continued as they reminisced and packed each memory into a box. It brought warmth to Amanda, having a genuinely pleasant conversation with her mother.

That was until Amanda's mother began to ask questions that made her want to shrivel into a ball.

"So, how's that job of yours going?"

Amanda bit the side of her cheek.

"It's alright, I guess." She replied after a brief moment of silence. She grabbed the last picture frame off the wall and placed it into the now full box.

"Hm, becoming an assistant wasn't quite what you studied in school, was it?" Her mother spoke as she picked the roll of duct tape off the floor.

"No, but ya gotta start somewhere, right?" She gave her a fake smile, but her mother was less generous, keeping a plain expression and her nose up.

"Well, don't wait too long-"

Amanda squinted at her. "I'm not waitin'--"

"Or else you'll find yourself at the age of 40, waitressing for an old diner. We don't want that, now do we?" She dragged the tape against the box and cut its end. "And that boyfriend of yours... Alex, was it?"

"Adam."

"He's a good boy, I hope?"

"He is."

"Make sure he's not too much of a distraction." She put another layer of tape on to the box going the opposite direction. "Lord knows you have enough of those."

A familiar silence took over as they packed. Amanda huffed up another deep breath. Things will never change, she concluded.

 

Being treated with more discipline than her younger sister was to be expected. But Kim was an adult now. When Amanda turned 19, she had a job and her own place of which she payed for herself. Yet, it was never enough for her mother. Kim, on the other hand, just dropped out of high school, and went out clubbing instead of finding herself a job. Her mother seemed to be completely fine with that.

Although Amanda grew up too quickly, she was fine with it. She just couldn't help but wonder how it felt to be the one fast asleep in her room until noon.

 

When the clock hit 3:00PM, Amanda begun packing the things in her childhood room. It was coloured a light pink which she wanted to change when she turned 14, but hadn't gotten around to. It didn't really matter as NSYNC and Spice Girl posters ended up covering the majority of the wall.

She tossed a few of her dolls and stuffed animals into a box for donation and left the ones she was too attached to in another. Carrying the box for donation, she walked towards the stair case leading downstairs, but the sudden squeals coming from her sister's room caught her attention. Glancing to Kim's room, which was beside her own, she slowly approached it and left the box on one of the steps.

Amanda held her ear against the door, hearing muffled voices and giggles along with upbeat music. Kim had a window in her room that lead to the roof and she was smart enough at the age of 12, to use it to her advantage. So, it wouldn't be a complete surprise if she snuck a few of her girl friends in today.

Amanda would've let her be if it wasn't for the fact that Kim was suppose to help pack. Like the responsible older sister she was, she put on an irritated expression and without warning, barged into Kim room, ready to scold.

With her mouth opened to shout, she paused, seeing the simple image of Kim alone, sitting in the middle of her bed with a thin blanket around her. Kim had jumped and her eyes were widened at the surprise.

"Jesus Christ!" She held her chest. Her expression changed from shocked to confusion, "Amanda, what're doin' here?!"

Amanda ignored her question and scanned the room in suspicion. Her closet was wide opened, revealing her poorly folded clothing, while her window was shut closed, with no sign of prior manipulation. The loud squeals returned and she turned her head, seeing it was the television.

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me." Amanda rolled her eyes at the screen. Displayed on it was Tyra Banks surrounded by a bunch of long legged models, jumping for joy.

Amanda continued, "Have you seriously been watchin' this crap the whole time?! You're suppose to be helpin' ma and I!"'

Despite Amanda's angered tone, It was clear Kim was unaffected as her smile widened.

"Hey, you grew your bangs out!" She exclaimed. "Looks real nice on you, bet Allen loves em'!"

Amanda put on an offended look.

"Adam! His name is Adam! it's not that hard to remember--" She paused, realizing she was off topic, and pinched her nose. The squeals from the television brought her back on track.

Scanning the room again, she spotted the remote resting on the floor. As she grabbed it, she threatened to turn off the TV but Kim was quick to object by grabbing it out of her hand.

"Ok, ok, hold up, would you?!" She hugged the remote and had her back face Amanda. "Listen, 'Manada, they're marathoning season 1 and 2 Americas Next Top Model and--"

"And?!"

"And I just can't miss it!"

"Yes you can." Amanda reached for the remote but Kim held it tighter.

"Please?! Just- just one more episode! Promise! They're not even that long!"

"No, Kim."

"Pleeaaaaaaase?!"

Amanda stood back up with her arms crossed. She glanced at the television screen, seeing the credits roll, then back at her pleading sister, who's eyes sparkled widely.

With a long sigh, Amanda dropped her hands. "Fine. One more, but that's it. It ain't fair for you to just be lyin' in bed while we do all the work."

Kim squealed as if she was one of the models in the show, and she thanked Amanda repeatedly. The eldest rolled her eyes once the opening theme began playing. She felt blinded by all the glitz and glamour the show was throwing at her all at once, but Kim hadn't blinked for a second.

With the new era of trashy reality shows, Amanda shouldn't be surprised that Kim was one to get sucked into it. It was obnoxious, loud, unnecessarily dramatic, just like her. Reality shows in general were annoyingly cheesy, and usually objectified women in the most blatant ways. They also ironically lacked reality to their clearly staged shows. It was offensive to both the viewer and the art television as a whole. How could anyone watch such demeaning content?

"Ain't so bad, is it?"

Amanda was taken out of her daze by Kim's smug tone. She somehow found herself perched against the corner of her sister's bed, watching the end credits of Americas Next Top Model. It felt as if 5 minutes had gone by when in reality, it was a whole hour. She sat silently, trying to process what had just happened.

"Welp, a promise is a promise." Kim sighed as she pointed the remote towards the television. "...Unless you wanna watch another episode?"

Amanda looked at her a bit too quickly and she saw Kim's knowing grin. Amanda darted her eyes to the carpet floor, feeling her cheeks go pink in shame.

"Hey, I'm not the one watchin' alright? You can go ahead but just so you know, ma's not gonna be happy."

"Oh, drop the act, Amanda." Kim rolled her eyes. "You're lovin' this!"

"It's terrible, Kim." She answered  
confidently. Kim raised an eyebrow as Amanda purposely avoided eye contact. "But, yeah, I guess I kinda see why you like it."

Kim smiled widely and raised both her fists in success. She began spurring out a long list of reality shows for her older sister to watch, but Amanda (pretended) to shrug them off, although The Bachelorette sounded quite entertaining. The next episode of Americas Next Top Model began playing, then the next, then the next. The sun was setting when their mother came into the room, appearing puzzled.

It was a scene she had never seen a long while. Her daughters were huddled under a blanket, on their stomachs. Kim leaned on Amanda's shoulder as she complained about one of the constants being too much of a "needy brat". Amanda let out a laugh in agreement, nearly choking on the pretzels she was eating.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Their mother stepped into the room with her hands in her hips.

They flinched at her voice and the two quickly got themselves sitting up, putting on guilty grins.

"It was Amanda's idea!" Kim blurted, and Amanda's jaw dropped.

"Was NOT!" She stood her ground. "I swear to you, mama, we were gonna come down as soon as this was done--"

Their mother held her palm out for her to stop. Amanda paused, and dropped her head. She was going to get yelled at once again, for something she hadn't done.

But to her surprise, he mother spoke calmly.

"I'll let you off with a warning, this time." A soft smile emerged. "It's just nice to see you girls get along for a change."

Amanda raised an eyebrow, expecting it to be her mothers excuse of a joke. But she simply turned, and left the two alone. Amanda glanced over to Kim, who wore a genuine smile. A brief pause passed by before Amanda smirked in return.

Change certainly was refreshing.


	3. September 2, 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria leaves for deployment, leaving Nick and Zara for some much needed father-and-daughter time. 
> 
> I cried everytime Nick and Zara do the sign for "I love you" so this fic was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Sign language, family

**Nick Amaro**

"One, two, three, jump!"

Nick and Maria held their daughters hands, side by side and lifted her into the air. She squealed with a smile so wide, her eyes squinted. And her giggle that could only be described as golden, boomed as her father pursed his lips to create a swoosh sound, then the sound of an explosion when her feet hit the floor.

"Again, again!" Zara exclaimed.

Nick, ready to give in to her daughters demand, looked over to his wife to see if she too was as willing to play "airplane" for the 20th time in a row. But, her eyes were focused on what lie ahead. Nick followed her gaze and his wide smile slowly softened, seeing the scene of families and couples bidding adieu to one another before heading off to the long line of bored individuals.

Almost simultaneously, Nick and Maria let out a deep sigh. No fun can come out of the security checkpoint of an airport.

Maria crouched down to Zara's height, and now held both her hands. Zara still appeared with her toothy smile.

"Zara, mommy has to go on the airplane, now." Maria grazed her thump across her daughters tiny palms.

"You're gonna save people!" She exclaimed.

"That's right, Zara." Maria brushed the curly strand of hair that covered her daughters face. "Be a good girl while I'm away, ok hunny? Try not to drive your father too crazy."

Both Nick and Zara let out a chuckle but it quickly dissolved thereafter. A beat of silence passed before Zara spoke up,

"Are you coming back for my first day of school?"

Maria shared a saddened look with Nick before answering. "No, hunny. I wish I could, I really do. Daddy will be with you, though."

Zara frowned and bowed her head, making the strand of hair her mother brushed, fall back down.

"But, I want you to be there!"

"I know, hunny, I wanna be there, too." Maria lowered her head to meet Zara's eyes. "So, you better take a bunch of pictures to send to mommy, alright?"

Zara nodded happily and wrapped her arms around her mother.

"Love you, mommy!"

Maria held her tighter. "Love you, too, sweetie."

Maria hadn't realized how long she had been hugging her daughter until Nick gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. She then gave Zara a kiss on the cheek before letting her go and stood back up to face her husband, who wore a gentle expression.

"You'll be ok?" She asked, dragging her hand against his arm.

"We will, don't worry." He assured her, looking down at Zara as she slipped her hand back into his palm.

Though confident sounding, Nick couldn't help but doubt his own words just slightly. The unfortunate truth was, he had never had the chance to take care of Zara alone for more than a few hours. Perhaps it was more noticeable than he thought, being at work for long hours. The result of it was Zara favouring her mother more than him. Did Zara even like him? Was he just a stranger to her?

Nick pushed his thoughts to the back of his head. He was probably overthinking.

 

* * *

 

"When's mommy coming back?"

Nick looked up from his menu, seeing his daughter laying her head on the table, facing the window. Outside was a distance view of the airport and the occasional plane taking off. Zara fiddled with the pencil crayon provided by the IHOP restaurant and coloured in a photo of a cartoon pirate.

"It's going to be awhile, sweetie." He answered honestly. "We'll be able to skype with her, though, when she's not busy."

Nick offered her a kind smile but she remained with a frown. It had only been 20 minutes and he could already tell she would rather be with her mother than have to spend time with him.

Seeing her saddened expression, he changed the subject to something more light hearted. It was then, Nick found himself listening to his daughter ramble on about what happened in the latest episode of something called, "Jake and the Never Land Pirates". After the waitress collected their order, Zara then proceeded to explain her dolls personas and even gave them a backstory. She seemed to warm up after her lengthy chatter.

Zara paused from speaking to focus on the colouring page that was nearly complete, and Nick quickly responded to emails on his cell phone from his new captain at the Special Victims Unit. Though probably a long shot, he wondered if the department was more generous with their hours than his last job.

"Daddy, look!" Nick was taken out of his concentration by the exclaims of his daughter. Looking up, he saw Zara chuckling, as she pointed at who he assumed to be a the mother and son sitting a few booths beside them. "They're being funny!"

Nick raised an eyebrow in confusion, but after eyeing the two for a bit longer, he noticed their animated expressions and the fast movements of their hands. Nick hadn't had to do sign language in a while, but from what he collected, the mother was comforting the son about his father having to just flown out.

Nick focused his eyes back on her daughter, who still giggled. "No, Zara, that's uh, that's how they talk to each other."

With this, Zara tilted her head in confusion.

"Talk? But nothings coming out of their mouths!"

"They're usin' sign language." He explained, but she appeared even more confused. Noticing this, Nick continued, "Deaf people-- they uh, they don't use their voices 'cause they're not able to hear anythin'-- like music, or the sound of our voices. So, they have they're own language to communicate with us and one another."

"Sign language?" Zara remained puzzled as she looked back at the two, moving their hands and fingers in each and every direction.

Nick grinned at her curiosity. "Here, how 'bout I teach you a few words?"

"Really?" Her already wide eyes had somehow managed to become larger. "You know how to do it?!"

"Yeah, I uh, I'm a little rusty though." Nick admitted. It was ages ago when he was once roommates with a deaf friend. Although, his friend was able to speak and decipher Nicks speech by his mouth movements. Despite this, Nick urged his roommate to teach him sign language.

"Lets start with somethin' easy."

Zara nodded and leaned forward in anticipation.

"This means hello." He waved his hand by his ear, as if doing a salute. "You try it."

She dropped her crayon on the table and mimicked his movements hesitantly.

"There ya go! You're a natural!"

Zara giggled and she repeated the action until the waitress returned with their pancakes.

"This means," Nick touched his chin and brought his hands forward. "Thank you."

Zara looked up at the waitress and copied her fathers movement. The waitress giggled back at her and gave them a nod before returning back to the kitchen.

While the two enjoyed their meal, Nick continued to teach Zara simple words and phrases. They received looks when the volume of their laughs heightened, but they hadn't seemed to notice. Her smile was too pure for Nick to care about the judging eyes.

When they finished their meal, they passed by the mother and son duo, and Zara signed "goodbye" to them, which they smiled at and did the same. It was when Nick was helping Zara buckle up in her car seat, when he taught her one last sign.

"This ones my favourite." He brought down his ring and middle finger, leaving the others raised.

Zara blinked at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means I love you."

She raised her hand and copied his action. "Like this?"

"Yeah," An irreplaceable warmth fluttered in his stomach. "Exactly like that."

* * *

 

When Nicks alarm went off, AKA the nagging of his mother, Nick jolted up and saw it was nearly 8:30AM. Nick practically carried Zora out of the house and into her car seat, with her pig tails in an uneven proportion and socks on the wrong way. The distant yells of his mother could be heard, and he turned seeing she was waving Zara's lunch box in the air. Nick quickly grabbed it and rolled his eyes when she highlighted how right she was about waking up at an earlier time. He didn't admit to the fact that it made him feel guilty.

They arrived at the school, and Nick walked Zara down the hallway to her classroom and couldn't help but sense a hint of deja vu, despite attending a different elementary school. He felt her grip tighten as children ran past her, and he squeezed it back lightly. Entering the classroom, they were introduced to a large room coloured a light yellow, with colourful posters plastered in Abc, short words, and numbers. The two settled down near the coat hangers, and Zara reminded her father to take a photo for her mother. He took out his phone and did just that, and their eyes focused deeper into the classroom, seeing children sitting on the patterned carpet.

Nick felt a tug on his sleeve, and he looked down seeing Zara was trying to pull him to her height. He kneeled down beside her and she whispered in his ear,

"She has a Jake and the Never Land Pirates backpack!"

Zara pointed at the blonde girl with glasses who sat in the corner alone.

"How about you sit next to her?" Nick suggested.

Zara glanced at her father and back at the little girl rather coyly.

Nick patted her back. "It'll be ok, Zara. I bet she's really nice. You can even tell her you like her backpack!"

Zaras voice softened, "Are you gonna stay?"

"No, I can't stay, sweetie." Nick shook his head and his heart sank seeing her frown. "But I'll be back at the end of the day to pick you up. And I want you to tell me everything about your day, alright?"

Zara gave him a grin and nodded.  
He then hugged and kissed her forehead as a final goodbye and she ran off to the girl in the glasses. Nick couldn't help but stay for a while, watching his daughter grow and make new friends. It was a shame Maria had to miss such a large milestone in their daughters life, but then Nick thought back to his own busy work schedule. She was only four years old but Nick couldn't help but wonder, how many milestones had he missed?

Maybe he wasn't overthinking when he felt like a stranger.

He was removed from his daze once the bell rang, and was his cue to leave. He made his way to the exit but suddenly was interrupted by Zora who yelled out to him. He paused, and turned his head to view his daughter once again.

She wore her usually bright smile, and her hand was lifted up. She had her pinky, thumb, and index finger raised.

A smirk emerged from Nicks face. The familiar feeling of warmth only his daughter could activate returned to his heart. And with a chuckle, he raised his own hand up, signing "I love you" back.


	4. January 16, 2003

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The death of Rafaels father sends him into a rather puzzling state of mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually do comedies so this was pretty intimidating to write. Also, i apologize if the spanish is off gramtically or contextually. Feel free to correct me!
> 
> Warning: Implied abuse, Trauma  
> Tags: Family, angst, death, Orginal Character(s)

**Rafael Barba**

Rafael wasn't a huge fan of winter. Scratch that, he wasn't a fan at all. The season was a huge burden, having him forced to wear layers upon layers of thick clothing only to be freezing nonetheless. His entire body would go completely numb within 5 minutes of entering the so called "wonderland" and soon enough, he would catch a cold that somehow lasted throughout the whole season. Clearly, Rafael hated winter.

But he had to admit, what brought him such agony was actually quite beautiful.

From the cafe window, such satisfaction was gained viewing a clean slate of snow covering the park in the distance. Not to mention the absolute elegance shown by the crystal icicles hanging from the frosted trees. Everything looked so perfect, so in place. How can something appear so stunning yet be absolutely unbearable?

"You know, in times of grief, it's good to be surrounded by family."

Rafael blinked at the voice that peered through his thoughts. He nearly forgotten about the gentleman in front of him. Looking away from the window, his eyes met with a man who appeared drastically different from their last encounter. But, under the eye bags and extra weight the gentleman carried, was unmistakably a hyperactive 12 year old, who would trick his aunt in giving him money for candy.

Seeing his older cousin— Eddie, would have stoked Rafael, but under the current circumstances, it didn't seem appropriate.

"That's debatable." Murmured Rafael, expecting a reaction out of his cousin but he offered silence. Rafael's grin faded. "And I'm not grieving, I'll be fine."

Eddie bit the side of his cheek, still remaining unsatisfied. "You're really not going to your own fathers funeral? I mean, you did help plan it after all."

"That was more so for my mother than him."

Eddie let out a sigh, "I get it, your father wasn't a good man. He was uh, how to I say this..."

"A Bastardo? Pendejo? Caquita de la vaquita?"

Eddie held out his palm. "Ok, ok, sure. All of those things. But-- but he was also your father. I know you didn't have the greatest relationship with him but, I don't know, maybe seeing him one last time will give you closure?"

"Closure for what?" Rafael couldn't help but scoff. "And It's a little too late for closure, with him dead and all."

Eddie shook his head and wrapped his scarf around his neck. "Rafa, It's never too late for closure."

Rafael wasn't completely sure what that meant, and before he could ask, Eddie spoke,

"Last offer. You coming or not?"

Rafael gave a weak shrug, glancing at his brief case that sat beside him.

"I have to get some work done." He said softly.

Rafael avoided Eddies disappointed glare by bowing his head. He expected Eddie to argue but to his surprise, he simply sighed and patted Rafael's arm.

"Fine, if you insist." His cousin stood up and went in for a hug which Rafael wholeheartedly accepted. "Truly, lo siento por su pérdida."

"Gracias," He thanked him hesitantly for his condolences. Although, in his own opinion, he felt it was a loss no one should feel sorry for. "See you around, Eddie."

"I sure hope so." He spoke before exiting into the freezing weather.

Eddie phrased it as a joke but there was an over lying truth to his statement. It was nearly impossible to see Rafael now and days. Ever since he finished high school and moved to Massachusetts for his Harvard scholarship, Rafael had limited time to visit home. And after graduating and moving to Brooklyn to become a lawyer, he had no time at all.

He truly did want to visit home sooner, but with his hectic schedule it was tough to do so. And maybe underneath his poor excuse was a giant pit in his stomach triggered by the simple thought of seeing his father again.

Maybe it was the simple thought of a man who had given him hell everyday. The thought of cigarettes and beer lingering by his nose as he tried to ignore the screams and arguments transpiring just outside his bedroom door. The thought of having to face the man who belittled him so drastically, Rafael stayed an extra two hours in school just to avoid him. They were the thoughts Rafael imagined he would get over, but the reoccurring nightmares told him otherwise.

A month back, Rafael received a sudden phone call from his mother, and soon found himself facing the monster in his dreams. But instead of the intimidating figure his father use to be, Rafael found him utterly powerless, on a hospital bed.

One would think it to be satisfying seeing the person who had brought you so much sorrow, now so venerable. But for some unidentifiable reason of which Rafael hated, he still felt like a hopeless, little kid around him. His fathers pale fists still appeared bloody in Rafaels mind, as were his emotionless eyes, that remained rage filled. His father couldn't even speak, yet he heard the relentless screams of disappointment so clearly.

Rafael carried his fear as his father was pronounced dead. He remained fearful when he helped plan the funeral. And it carried on as he avoided seeing him one last time in the weakest possible state his father could ever possibly be.

The sound of the entrance door bells chiming took Rafael out of his daze. He once again, found himself staring off in to the distance. He took notice of his reflection in the glass window, seeing the frown he carried and the developing circles under his eyes. In his hand was a cup of coffee he forgot he ordered that had turned cold. He suddenly realized the rather unsettling amount of time that had passed by.

It was unsettling how easy it was for time to be taken away. And how easy to blame time on his missed opportunities, when in reality it was fear. Fear took away Rafael's chance to tell him how awful of a father he was. It took away the chance of telling him how much he hated him. It took away his chance to ask why he was the way he was. And perhaps worst of all, it took away his chance to say goodbye.

Rafael let out a deep sigh. He now walked on the icy side walks of the Bronx, and headed towards the taxi pickup. His plan of heading back to his mothers home to catch up on work had faltered with his clustered mind.

"Where to?" The taxi driver asked Rafael as he entered the car.

Rafael was silent as he thought back to what his cousin had said before. _It's never too late for closure_.

Despite his fear, Rafael knew what he had to do.

* * *

Snow had almost covered the dirt and mud of his fathers grave. A hand full of fresh flowers surrounded the grave and as well as one of the only pictures of his father smiling. He almost looked at peace in that photo, Rafael thought to himself.

With a hesitant breath, Rafael closed his eyes and stood in silence for a moment. The only sound to accompany him was the swirling wind.

"Hey, papa." Rafael spoke, and his eyes opened up, viewing the grave. "Been a while since we last spoke.

...You know, when I left for university, I truly thought I was done with you. I thought I was going to leave, begin a new life, and never hear or speak to you ever again. God, what an absolute dream that would be. But now here I am talking to you in this god awful weather. You're dead and you still somehow find a way to torture me.

Did-- did you even feel the tiniest bit of guilt doing the terrible things you did? Were you even remotely sorry for blaming your 12 year old son for all your misfortunes? Or calling your son a loser with no future ahead of him?"

He glanced back at the photo, seeing his deep dimples and the crinkle of his eyes.

"You probably saw yourself in me." Rafael mumbled. "But if you could see me now, you couldn't have been further from the truth. You thought so little of us, but what you failed to understand was your limits weren't mine.

I may never forgive you, just like how you never forgave yourself. And just like you, the damage will remain with me forever and i am not sure if I will ever heal. But this is a good of a start than any.

Goodbye, papa."

The whistling of the wind took over once again, as Rafael stood by his father's grave. The sudden hand on his shoulder should have startled him, but familiarity of the simple action had him feel instant warmth. He turned his head, seeing his mother, who smiled at up him weakly.

With another moment of silence, the two hooked arms and turned their backs on the grave, and now faced a clean slate of snow. Slowly, their foot steps created a path.

A path that was difficult to get through, but beautiful nonetheless.


	5. October 31, 1979

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Halloween, Fin is put in charge of taking care of three hyperactive children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Humor, Family, Childhood, Racism, Prejudice, Orginal Character(s)

**Fin Tutuola**

There was no place like home, Fin thought to himself as he strolled the streets of Harlem. From the musical performances by none other than his neighbours, to the vibrant graffiti art plastered all around. The unique nature of his neighbourhood never failed to amuse Fin.

Harlem was the only home he knew, and like any home, Fin memorized every crack in sidewalk, and all the familiar faces that passed by. Other than the annoyance of being stopped on the street to "catch up" for the 100th time in a week, knowing people had its perks.

"You kiddn' me, Fin?! I ain't givin' you all this stuff for free!"

Or not.

Fin rolled his eyes at Erika, the stubborn cashier operator, who refused to give him a discount for the candies he was trying to purchase. The petite lady had her arms folded, revealing her sleeve tattoo that traveled to her neck. Her nose was raised high in attempts to look intimidating but Fin had known her for way too long to erase the memory of her crying after being scolded by her mother for sneaking out late one night.

In times of desperation, Fin leaned against the counter and kept a flirtatious gaze. When she didn't slap him right there, right now, he put on a soft smirk. Like a true gentleman, Fin went on to compliment her new hair cut, and the hair band she had along with it. She loosened up and accepted his words with a thanks. Now, hopefully with her under his charm, Fin pleaded once more for the discount.

She declined again.

"C'mon, girl!" His flirtatious demeanour dissolved. "Help a boy out! You know I'd pay the whole price if I wasn't broke!"

"You wouldn't be broke if you came in for work, now would you?!" She spat back.

Fin wasn't quite sure why he thought that plan would work when it had failed all 50 times he tried. Whereas Plan B– to bicker on, back and fourth– somehow always succeeded. Their argument ended with negotiations, where Fin agreed to take over her shift for 2 weeks if she gave a now 30 cent discount for his current purchase.

Fin let out a lengthy sigh with his plastic bag of candies in hand as he exited the corner store, just thinking of the long hours of cashier duty. It was a battle he wasn't quite sure he won.

The sun peered through the clouds, hitting Fins eyes directly as he walked back home. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the odd sight of hop scorching children dressed as princesses and superheroes playing basketball. The perplex scene was all due to the day we all leaned to call, halloween. A holiday he wasn't too understanding of, but nonetheless accepted.

Making it to his home, the familiar sound Mrs. Harris was playing her records could be heard. Sir Duke was the tune, and Fin couldn't help but hum along as he unlocked the doors. His musical intermission was interrupted once opening the door, revealing three already hyperactive children running towards him, screaming his name. One hugged his leg, while the other two yanked on his arms.

"Woah, woah, hold up!" Fin said through chuckles. "Lemme get inside first, alright?!"

The three backed up giggling, and Fin shut the door closed.

He looked back at the three who now stood beside one another, posing in their homemade Halloween costumes. Fin scanned each one of them, with a finger to his chin, as if in thought.

"Peter Pan," Fin pointed at Braelin, his cousin, who wore all green, and held a toy bow and arrow.

"Cinderella," His finger moved to Makayla, the younger sister of Braelin, who wore a blue dress and bow in her hair.

"And Spider-Man." The last kid was Braelins friend, Keyon, who rested his mask on the top of his head, and wore a red and blue suite.

All but Keyon yelled an unnecessarily loud and aggressive "No".

"I'm obviously Robin Hood!" Braelin waved his bow and arrow in the air.

Makayla jumped, "And I'm Alice in Wonderland!"

"Hey, 1 outta 3 ain't bad." Fin shrugged.

Braelin rolled his eyes as the other two giggled. With a smug smirk, Fin ruffled Braelins Afro before making his way to the kitchen, where the children followed behind like ducklings.

"Hey, so when exactly we goin' out to trick-or-treat?" Keyon questioned. "'Cause my mama said I gotta be home by 8PM."

Fin reached for the cabinet and took out a bowl. "Well, guess what? I got a lil' surprise for y'all."

The three children's eyes widen in interest.

"What is it?" Keyon asked eagerly.

"Y'all don't have to do the work no more," He turned the plastic bag he held upside down and the candies he bought had scattered on to the floor. "Cause I already got the candy for y'all!"

The smirk Fin wore faded at the lack of response from the children. Instead of the joyous reaction Fin expected, the kids went silent and wore rather perplexed expressions.

"What the hell?!" Braelin blurted out. "That's not how Halloween works!"

Makayla gasped and pointed at her brother. "Swear jar!"

Braelin rolled his eyes in a comically exaggerated manner before giving an irritated glance to the younger child. He fished a crumpled dollar from his sweater pocket, tossed it into the nearly filled jar on the kitchen counter, and spoke in an aggravated tone.

"You's 'pose to knock on doors, act all cute, get the candy and haul ass to the next house--"

"Swear jar!" Makayla exclaimed again.

He again, unwillingly followed his sisters demand.

As much as Fin wanted to laugh, the impatient glare Braelin was giving told him it wouldn't be a great idea. With a sigh, Fin bent down and put the candy into the bowl. "We talked 'bout this, already. Y'all are stayin' home."

All three frowned and Braelin spoke for them, "But--but mama and auntie said we was allowed to go trick or treatin' this year! And you said we could finally go when I turned 8!"

"And how old are you now?"

"9! You's late!" He crossed his arms.

Fin stood back up, opened his mouth to argue back but he hadn't had much to say. Braelin got him good on that one, he had to admit.

"Cmon, Fin!" Keyon was next to whine. "If I knew y'all weren't gonna go trick or treating, I wouldn't be here!"

"Then get outta my house." Fin joked but Keyon put on an offended look nonetheless.

"Please, Fin?!" Makayla joined in on the pleading. "We promise we'll be good!"

All three children now begged relentlessly, with their hands clasped together and their already large eyes widened with anticipation. They were excited, and the Simon Says mentality they had was something all children carried. But it was getting irritating and Fin could feel a headache coming. He couldn't even put a word in with their overpowering, squeaky voices.

With his last resorting option, he slammed his free fist repeatedly onto the counter, as if a gavel, creating a large banging noise.

"Alright, alright!" His loud and intimidating tone had the childrens mouth shut. "Relax for a minute!"

Their eyes darted to the floor and posture went stiff, except for Braelin who was ready to argue for another hour, but Fin held his finger up and told him to hush. Braelin rolled his eyes once again and mumbled something under his breath that Fin chose to ignore.

With the silence, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. He viewed the nervous children as they fiddled with their thumbs. Braelin, on the other hand, tapped his foot awaited an explanation. He knew Fin too long to erase the memory of him bowing his head in shame when his mama scolded him for failing his math test.

Regardless of his faltering status in the eyes of his young cousin, Fin went on with his lecture,

"I ain't keepin' y'all inside just for the sake of it. Ya'll know as well as me, Harlem ain't great at night. There are some bad people out there who can hurt us."

Braelin was quick to talk back. "And how 'bout Mrs. Harris? Or-- or Erika? Don't see them hurtin' us!"

"'Cause they're good people." Responded Fin, equally as fast. "They ain't the ones who're makin' them loud banging noises outside at night. They ain't the ones screamin' and cussin' at each other when we tryna sleep, and they ain't the reason why we hear sirens comin' and goin' down the streets where y'all play."

"...They also ain't the ones who took you're grandaddy?" Makayla's voice was innocent and quiet but it spoke volumes nonetheless.

Fin hadn't realized his eyes were widened. He also hadn't realized much the children knew beyond the musical performances of their neighbours, the vibrant colours of graffiti on their building walls, the friendly faces when passing down the streets, and the laughing children playing with chalk.

Once again, silence took over, Fins eyes softened, as did his wrinkled forehead. He nodded his head at Makaylas question.

"I ain't tryna scare y'all." Fin looked at each one of them. "Harlems an alright place, but it ain't perfect."

Keyon hesitantly spoke up, "H-How long do you think it's gonna be like this?"

Fin replied slowly but honestly. "I dunno, little man. I don't have the answer to that. But I like to think it's gotten better."

"If it's gotten better, why can't we go trick or treatin'?" Braelin was genuinely curious, and spoke in a much more tame voice than previously.

Again, Fin was taken back by the question. Truthfully, he did believe things have gotten better. Back then, in Harlem, (or any minority neighbourhood for that matter,) theft, extortion, drugs, prostitution, and gambling were at an all time high. Before he was born, his family wanted to move, knowing that a baby born in Harlem was twice as likely to die in infancy as one born elsewhere in the city.

Unfortunately, the banks refused to give his family a loan. According to his mother, the banks drew on maps and circled around neighbourhoods that had black as the majority race, to ensure those homes would not have have similar value rate as somewhere it a white neighbourhood. Seventeen years later, their family is living in the same house as before and grateful to be alive.

And Seventeen years later, the indication of prejudice thinking was still clear, but was tamer now as was the crime rate in Harlem. Fin no longer felt the need to stay indoors from day to dawn. Instead he joined his friends for a game of catch, and walked to the convenient store without constant worry.

But still, seventeen years later, trick or treating— an activity meant to bring joy to children— remains a roulette in Fins eyes.

Blinking back to the question at hand and Fin found himself being stared at by three wide-eyed children.

"We still got a lot of work to do, that's why." Was his answer. "And change ain't gonna happen if y'all don't help out, you hear? Things don't look so great now, but I don't want that to discourage y'all. I want you guys to have hope. 'Cause guess what? Y'all kids are our future, and our future is gonna allow future kids to go trick or treatin' with no worry whatsoever. It's gonna take time, I know that for a fact, but trust me when i say it's somethin' worth fightin' for."

Fin felt like he had been talking for too long and had lost a children's attention long ago, but they continued to keep still with seemingly determined expressions.

"Got it?" He ended off.

All three children nodded, and Braelin did so with confidence that made Fin smirk widely.

"We're gonna save the world!" The one dressed as Robin Hood exclaimed.

"Exactly what y'all are gonna do!" Fin grinned and handed the bowl of candy to him. "Alright, enjoy your candy but don't tell you're mama I gave you this before lunch. This crap ain't cheap--"

"Swear jar!" All three children exclaimed.

Fin rolled his eyes but chuckled as he shoved a dollar into the jar. The three ran with their candy into the living room and began playing as the characters they were dressed up as. In all honestly, if they weren't wearing their costumes, they would still be as amazing, Fin thought.

 

When Fin finished preparing lunch, the sun was still up. He entered the living room seeing Keyon and Makayla watching halloween specials on the television. Braelin, on the other hand, watched from the window, as children skipped around, door to door for candy. With a sigh, Fin checked the wall clock and saw it was 5:00PM.

Grabbing his coat and a batman mask that rested on the sofa, he put them on and approached the door. The three watched him rather  
puzzled until he spoke,

"One hour. But that's it." He simply stated.

The three froze as their mouths opened, and they shared a shocked look with one another. The clock then hit 5:01PM.

"59 minutes." Fin stated.

With this, the three jumped onto their feet screaming their thanks, and grabbed the baggies their mothers had knitted for them and head out the door with Fin behind. It brought a toothy grin seeing the joy the three radiated.

Change begins with hope, and Fin was hopeful that the future was brighter.


	6. September 21, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia struggles to find confidence when her first day at SVU approaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: friendship, anxiety, self doubt, angst (I think)
> 
> The date for this one is inaccurate but law and order premiered on sept 22 so I thought it'd be cool to have Olivia's first day on that date.
> 
> Also, Karen is from episode 14 of season 2.

When the abrupt noise of thunder growled at the people of Manhattan, Olivia gladly embraced the rain that came afterwards. The sound of drops hitting the pavement ground always brought her to a calming state, and it was deeply needed as told by her bitten nails, scratching off the label of the paper cup that held her tea.

Peace was difficult to find, Olivia had unfortunately concluded. Despite being seated in a cozy lounge coloured a warm palette with the therapeutic sound of the rain, and the light strumming of a guitar from an easy-to-look-at individual, Olivia still could not help but focus on her wavering anxiety.

What has caused her such tension was the day that had yet to come, but soon approached as told by the setting sun peering through the grey clouds. Olivia tried her best to admire the purple and orange hue illuminating throughout the sky, but still her mind reverted back to tomorrow.

Tomorrow was the day she awaited for what felt like forever. It was the day she worked so hard to get to, sacrificing her time with friends to spend studying instead, until the sunrise crept up. It was the day she dreamt of when both asleep and awake, and did everything and anything in her power to achieve. It was tomorrow she was finally becoming a detective for the Special Victims Unit.

" _Hey, Olivia!_ "

Truth be told, Olivia did in fact believe she was worthy of becoming a detective. She achieved her rank fairly, with a whole lot of hard work behind the scenes. She did so, not with Ill intentions, but with absolute passion and determination in wanting to do the right thing. She eagerly took the opportunity of furthering her ability of helping those truly in need, those truly suffering deep within, those who had a voice that desperately needed to be heard.

Up to this point, she dedicated her life to tomorrow, how could she feel so unprepared?

" _Uh, Olivia?_ "

Was she truly ready to become a detective? Has her training equipped her with the traits to take on such a hands in job? To face the physical and emotional toll it will throw at her? If she can't even handle thinking about it, how will she be able to live it everyday?

"Olivia?"

The dazed brunette blinked out of her foggy state of mind by the voice peering through her thoughts. She found herself secluded in the corner of a couch, with a now cold cup of tea cradled in her lap. A hand rested on her shoulder, and with widening eyes, she looked at the individual who held contact with her, and was greeted with a familiar face. Instant warmth was brought to the pit of her stomach once recognizing the individual.

"Oh, my God, Karen!" Olivia stood up to give her friend a hug. Once releasing her from her grip, Olivia asked, "How-- how long have you've been standing here?"

"Not too long. There was a pause as Karen's eyes softened, and she began circling her hands on Olivia's back. "You all good? You seem distracted."

A weak grin emerged from the corners of Olivia's mouth. "Hadn't had enough sleep, i guess."

Karen simply smiled back, and Olivia took the time to notice the rare sight of Karen wearing casual clothing. She has been so use to seeing her in her police gear, and busy at work, training the rookies Olivia once was. Though a simple look Karen had on — jeans with high boots, along with a baggy sweater — There was something quite earnest, seeing a more personal side of Olivia's mentor.

"C'mon," Karen nodded towards the exit door. "Let's take a walk."

Olivia tilted her head with an eyebrow raised.

"Right now?" She glanced out the window seeing the gloomy weather, then back at her friend who remained with a smirk. "But it's raining."

Swiftly, Karen lifted her yellow  
umbrella and winked. "That's why we have these."

 

Sharing an umbrella, the two walked along the sidewalk of the busy street. They spotted a park nearby and decided to roam around there for a while and viewed the ducklings as they swam in a body of water nearby.

Karen spoke casually, asking light questions to Olivia like how her day was, or if she had any plans for the weekend. To all, she tried to respond in with a genuine effort but she couldn't help but feel she sounded as gloomy as the weather. It was only a matter of time Karen would bring it up. And that, she did.

"What's on your mind, Olivia?"

Their walking pace slowed down at the question.

Olivia put on a thin smile, debating on how to answer. "Everything," She responded honestly and continued, "but mainly tomorrow. It came quicker than I expected."

"Really? I imagined you thought the opposite."

"I did." Olivia admitted. "I wanted this so badly-- and I still do! But, now that it's so close, I'm not sure how to feel. Excited? Worried? Nervous?"

"I don't think theres a wrong way to feel."

Olivia glanced at the ground coyly, and hugged herself. The sudden yet comforting touch of Karen's hand on her back, allowed her to ease up.

"Talk to me Liv." Karen spoke timidly.

It was a rare occurrence for Olivia to break down her walls and talk about herself, nor was it all that appealing. She grew up, unable to express herself to anyone and simply did as she told. But keeping herself from sharing what was going on in her mind had been getting more difficult as years passed by.

Despite her discomfort, having someone actually eager to hear what Olivia has to say was something she truly was grateful.

With a sigh, she hesitantly spoke up, "I just-- I don't know. This is ridiculous but I just can't help but think of all the mistakes I'll make on a job. And how negative and large of an impact the mistake can cause on a case."

Karen nodded understandingly and Olivia went on.

"I've pretty much dedicated my life to tomorrow but, what if I'm still not ready? What if I took the job of someone more prepared and deserving--"

"Hey, look at me." Karen said in a bold voice as she suddenly paused from walking to face Olivia. Olivia turned her head to view the dark brown eyes of her mentor who rested her free hand on Olivia's shoulders. "There is no one more deserving than you. You're going to be fine, alright? This moment of sorrow and doubt right now-- you're going to laugh at years from now when you're like, captain of a squad."

Olivia let out a small laugh and shook her head. "Seems like a reach."

"Then jump high enough and you'll achieve it. Just like you've been doing this whole times." Her voice became more gentle, a rare sound to hear. "I know we are constantly surrounded by the grim reality of violence and desperation, but there is always a glimpse of hope peering through. If we spend too much time focusing on the negative, then we miss the small yet incredible moments in life."

Olivia hadn't expected the outpouring wisdom and wasn't sure how to respond. She didn't have to think too long as Karen continued to speak and walk slowly towards an upcoming bridge.

"Easier said than done, I know but, these small moments-- they're important. They teach us to have _hope_ in humanity in our otherwise broken society. They give us _courage_ when we are too afraid to live the life we truly strive for. They heighten our _love_ in times we feel so far apart. They help us _grow_ into a better person-- a person you're truly proud to be. And when we feel like there's nothing to believe in, they give us an _understanding_ of the strange, and seemingly unexplainable aspects of life."

They now stood on the bridge, viewing the clouds as they steadily moved away from the sunset that emerged. The purple and orange hue was now clearly seen and for once, Olivia found herself admiring the beautiful site.

Karen brought her umbrella to a close. "Little moments like these shape who you are today, and what you are, Olivia Benson, is a badass. Don't you dare forget that."

Olivia chuckled at the rather humorous depiction her friend had. Though when glancing at her, Olivia's grin dissolved seeing Karen appearing serious.

"Say you won't. Even if you don't believe me." Karen urged in a tone similar to what she used when training officers, but there was something quite genuine about it.

"I won't." Said Olivia. "I won't forget it."

 

It was in a blink of an eye when Olivia found herself staring at the front door of her new precinct building. The sight of police officers shuffling in and out of the building was all that could be seen, along with the occasional lawyer and detectives.

Despite her 3 hours of sleep last night, her eyes were wide opened and her energy was beyond high. Her excited, worried, and nervous feelings were still evident, but she also felt she was enough. She felt could handle whatever the job could throw at her. She at last, felt confident.

Taking a deep breath she took her first step into the building and navigated her way to the elevator. Arriving at her floor she made her way towards the bullpen area where she was greeted with scattering individuals.

"Like a herd of sheep they are." She nearly jumped at the voice. Looking up at the voice, she saw an older gentleman who was in the process of taking off his fedora. He tossed it into a desk and placed his long, black trench coat on to a chair.

"This is SVU, correct?" She asked as the man approached her once again.

He stuffed his hands into his pocket. "Indeed we are. Can I help you with anything?"

"I am actually the new detective." It sounded odd out loud, she admitted to herself.

"Are you now?" His voice only slightly lit up and she nodded. The gentleman put his hand out which Olivia accepted. "Pleasure to finally have you on board, John Munch's the name. And you are...?"

The brunette put on a smile, huffing another tight breath. For 34 years she has been awaiting this day. And all the small moments have lead her to this huge one. With pride in her eyes and an eager spirit radiating off, she stood straight and replied.

"My name is Olivia..."

 

" **Olivia Benson**."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really fun to write! And I'm very proud of how it turned out. Thank you for those who have read along, it's greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Fun fact: In Karen's speech, the words in italic are the themes of the previous chapters; 
> 
> Fin: Hope  
> Rafael: Courage  
> Nick: Love  
> Amanda: Grow(th)  
> Sonny: Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I'm writing a full blown fic for law and order but that's probably going to take awhile to complete. I'm debating whether or not to get a cowriter cause holy hell it sure is hard to write.


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